


Gilded

by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cybernetic Spine Mercy, Cybernetics, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Massage, Prompt Fill, Touch-Sensitive Wings, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TahTheTrickster/pseuds/Tah%20the%20Trickster
Summary: "You're my favorite," was all Angela mumbled into the sheets.Amélie smirked and leaned down to kiss her ear. "Is that so, chérie?" The pet name sent a shiver down Angela's mechanized spine and set a soft blush in her face."Don't," she groaned. "I am tired. G-rated touching only."





	

**Author's Note:**

> nsfw prompt fill for alex and tumblr user @mememmetra, alex requested smthg with wings, mememmtra requested amelie giving angela a "semi friendly back massage" and then discovering how sensitive her spinal implant is, i kinda smashed them together to create this,,, this,
> 
> heads up that i speak zero french but i did make an effort to make it semi-accurate by way of reading articles on french grammar and terms (and using google translate, sue me) to try to make shit sound at least mostly accurate. if you actually speak french feel free to tell me how bad i fucked up lmfao

It never failed to amuse Amélie that Angela's wings, cybernetic though they were, seemed to suffer aches and pains and cricks just as any other body part might. Amélie informed Angela more than once that her prosthetic technology was, perhaps, a little  _ too _ lifelike if she had to stretch out metal and hardlight to soothe herself, but Angela had just pulled a mocking face at her and continued doing nothing about it.

So when Amélie got back to their shared apartment to find Angela—topless but for the baby blue bra she'd selected for the day—flexing and stretching her shoulders and wings in an effort to work the tension out she simply rolled her eyes, caught Angela by the back of the neck, and unceremoniously shoved her down onto the bed. Angela yelped in surprise.

" _ Hey! _ "

"Salut," Amélie returned cheekily, leaning down to press a light kiss to the nape of Angela's neck. She felt the wing prosthetics jolt slightly at the contact, the golden hardlight feathering ruffling for a moment and then relaxing once more. She trailed her fingertips over the medic's shoulders, feeling the inhuman level of tension her trapezius muscles carried. "How  _ do _ you manage this?" she huffed, digging her thumbs into the overworked muscle.

"It— _ ow! _ " She flinched, wings folding tight into themselves. Amélie lightened her touch, continuing to rub at her shoulder. "...My job is very stressful, for starters, but it is entirely possible that the wings are a source of—" Amélie moved to straddle Angela's hips for a better angle. She didn't miss the way Angela's ears went red at the new position. "...o-of extra stress on the muscle as well," she finished weakly.

"Hm." She shifted her weight, carefully increasing the pressure as she kneaded the spot in slow circles. A soft noise caught in Angela's throat—something uncertain—and with a scarcely deeper touch, the tension finally began to release, loosing a low sigh from the medic as well. Amélie chuckled. "Better?"

"You're my favorite," was all Angela mumbled into the sheets.

Amélie smirked and leaned down to kiss her ear. "Is that so,  _ chérie? _ " The pet name sent a shiver down Angela's mechanized spine and set a soft blush in her face.

" _ Don't, _ " she groaned. "I am  _ tired. _ G-rated touching only."

Amélie tutted but acquiesced, sitting up again to continue gently working the stress out of her girlfriend's back. How the doctor managed to go so long in this state was beyond her. But it was no matter. Wasn't like Amélie really  _ needed _ the excuse to get her hands all over Angela's body, but it was entertaining to have one anyway. The breathy little purrs and half-moans that escaped with every pass of her hands over a tight spot were only a bonus.

Her fingers found the base of Angela's wings, where they connected to the electronics of her spine. She dug in her thumbs, running them rough over the warm titanium. Angela's eyes snapped open.

" _ Amélie. _ " Angela tried to make it a warning. It came out more like a plea.

" _ Quoi? _ I'm... helping." Amélie smirked.

"I told you—"

"How is this not 'g-rated,' chérie?" Her cool fingers slid inward, caressing the heated plating of her spine. Angela nearly choked, an adorable shade of red blooming in her face. Amélie bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Oh, she knew  _ precisely _ how the doctor was affected by her cybernetics. As she liked to tease Angela with some regularity—she shouldn't have developed integrated biotic nervous systems if she didn't intend for Amélie to  _ use them. _ She pressed three fingers against the start of the implant at the base of Angela's neck and dragged them slowly down the length of her spine, startling a surprised, borderline obscene moan from the doctor. "You seem to be the only one with impure thoughts here,  _ docteur. _ "

"Shut up," Angela snapped, her voice soft and rough. Amélie's grin was wicked.

"Temper, temper..."

Angela's back arched subtly against the mattress as Amélie leaned down over her, scarcely pressed against her. She drew in a quick little gasp at the feeling of Amélie's lips against the warm metal of her spine. "Amélie—you—what're—" She couldn't get her words out.

"Still g-rated," Amélie teased in a soft murmur, her lips still pressed against her spine. She began kissing down the plates, agonizingly slowly, occasionally pausing to drag her tongue along the too-sensitive skin just beside the biomechanics. Angela's hand clamped over her mouth, the hardlight feathers of her wings ruffling sharply at the stimulation. "Perhaps pg-13," she amended, pausing to leave a hot, lingering kiss directly between Angela's wings.

Angela's little groan against the mattress caught her attention—half an octave lower, husky, plaintive in a way she didn't tend to hear until—

Amélie's brows shot up.  _ My, my. _

"And you thought  _ I _ would be inappropriate," she murmured, mischief turning the corner of her mouth up in a smirk. Her fingers slid up, tracing the joints where Angela's wings rested on her shoulders. Angela shivered at the touch, and moaned again when Amélie's hands diverged to lightly trace her fingertips over the titanium frames of her wings.

"You're  _ being _ inappropriate," Angela whispered stubbornly. Amélie's grip shifted, lightly dragging her fingers through the curious softness of the hardlight feathering. Angela's fingers fisted in the bedsheets. " _ Schiesse— _ "

Amélie gave a quick, amused exhale. She shifted forward, lips brushing Angela's ear as her nails scraped over the small of her back. " _ Détends-toi. _ " Angela  _ shuddered. _

When Amélie glanced up at Angela's face, she was delighted at the sight of her lidded gaze and barely-parted lips. " _ Oh, _ you're awful," Angela said, a rough burr to her whisper.

"How so?" She sat up slowly, raking her fingers up her titanium spine again just to keep her on edge. Angela squirmed at the touch, her blush worsening, trying to get away. Amélie shifted her weight to keep her hips pinned and Angela swore softly. Amélie grinned. "Angela?"

"You—oh  _ fuck _ you—" She hissed, back arching again, desperate, as Amélie's lips pressed to the trembling joint of one wing and began languidly making her way down to her spine again. She laughed softly against Angela's back, teeth teasingly scraping the sensitive skin.

"Perhaps later, chérie," Amélie purred. "For now... I want to hear you." Her kisses trailed up the wing opposite, cool fingertips following behind, and Angela could only groan. The noise shifted into a soft, husky cry when Amélie's fingers dipped down, stroking over the titanium sheathes before combing through the feathers, stroking rough from quill to tip. Amélie grinned and leaned down again, nipping up Angela's shoulder. "You're close," she accused against the nape of her neck. She'd know that voice pitch anywhere. "Perhaps you should turn the sensitivity  _ down _ in the future?"

"Shut—shut up," Angela breathed faintly, distant.

Amélie chuckled, hands sliding down to rake her nails down Angela's back, leaving red scratches to frame her wings and hips. Angela trembled under her, knuckles pale as her grip on the sheets tightened. Her breathing was labored now, her face pink, moans and whimpers nearly constant, and Amélie was endlessly amused by the revelation that the doctor was trying desperately not to prove her right—as though Amélie wasn't able to push her buttons with ease in any scenario.

She pressed herself fully into Angela's back, nipping rough at the sensitive skin around the edges of the implant on her neck, and Angela could only moan and swear softly. " _ Lâche-toi, chérie, _ " Amélie ordered in that rough, throaty tone she knew Angela couldn't resist on her best day. " _ Jouis-toi pour moi. _ "

Angela stifled her cry against the mattress, but there was no mistaking the way her hips jerked under her—the way her back arched desperately, the way her wings ruffled and splayed sharply.

"I knew it," Amélie whispered wickedly in her ear. Her touch softened, fingers and palms stroking soothingly over the sweat-slick planes of Angela's back as her angel came to again. "Wicked thing."

"Shut  _ up, _ " Angela managed, voice hoarse. There was no bite to her words. "You knew you weren't playing fair—"

Amélie tutted, turning Angela over and pulling her in for a slow, lingering kiss, willingly returned. She smiled into the embrace at the feeling of Angela's fingers in her hair, keeping her close. " _Chérie,_ " she drawled, wrapping an arm about Angela's waist. The doctor gasped at the feeling of Amélie's palm sliding up her oversensitive spine. Amélie's grin was wicked, feral. "When have I  _ ever _ claimed to do anything  _ fairly? _ "


End file.
